


Anything Will Happen

by undergroundmonorail



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undergroundmonorail/pseuds/undergroundmonorail
Summary: New to the Mexico City Wild Wings, Stephanie Winters gets to know her teammates.
Relationships: Stephanie Winters/Summers Preston
Kudos: 11





	Anything Will Happen

Stephanie Winters wandered into the empty stadium, squinting into the morning sun. She knew she was early, and she doubted anyone else would be showing up to practice for another few hours. Of course, that was more than fine by her.

Dragging a sack of blaseballs behind her, Steph made her way to the pitcher’s mound. She may have been new to pro blaseball, but she was determined to make a splash. If it meant putting in long hours, so be it. A Winters never gives up. That’s what mom always used to say.

Picturing the crowd, the lights, the cheering, Steph reached into the sack and pulled out a thick, juicy blaseball. She rolled it around in her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before turning back to home plate. Perfect. In her mind’s eye, she saw the catcher flash a few of the signs she had studied. She smiled, wound up, and made the pitch...

...ball. No one was swinging at that. She shook her head, collected herself, and grabbed another ball. No reason to dwell. She was just warming up, and she had all day.

* * *

Thwack! Another blaseball collided with the fencing behind the batter’s box. Thwack! Fastball, straight down the middle. Thwack! A curveball, just clipping the strike zone. Thwack! Steph wasn’t playing around. Thwack! She was in the zone. Thwack! She had been at this for at least an hour, and-- Thwack! Nothing could stop her now. Thwack! Not even...

She reached into the sack and dug around for a moment. Empty. Well, that could stop her.

Steph pulled off her cap and wiped the sweat from her brow, turning around to find the water bottle she had lazily tossed to the ground. As she bent over to grab it, she felt a strong breeze blow past her.

“That’s odd”, she muttered to no one in particular. “Wasn’t supposed to be windy today.” She had already put it out of her mind by the time she had finished the rest of her drink and discovered the single blaseball that had rolled back to the pitcher’s mound. Steph scooped it up and got back into position for another pitch. One more time, she aimed for straight over home plate. With all the strength she could muster, she launched towards her imaginary batter.

There wasn’t a thwack. The ball stopped in the air, held in place by some kind of invisible force, before it began to accelerate again. This time, it was coming straight for her. Steph dodged out of the way. She couldn’t catch it in time, but she had a more pressing concern.

“Hey, who’s there?”

Another ball was already lifting itself from the ground, but as she asked the question, it seemed to pause in the air. It hovered for a moment, motionless, before unceremoniously falling to the ground.

“No, come on.” Having gotten a response, albeit a useless one, Steph’s mood shifted from scared toward annoyed. “You can’t hide, you threw a ball at me. Who’s there?”

Suddenly, she heard a crash from the dugout. A gust of wind had thrown open a locker and seemed to be blowing the contents onto the floor. Pieces of a uniform, various papers and unopened packs of blaseball cards were being strewn all about.

“Hey!” Steph sprinted towards the commotion, but stopped as she noticed the mess start to pack itself up. The locker door closed again, leaving only a Wild Wings uniform to gently float towards her. For the first time, she could tell that it wasn’t floating on its own; it was being carried by the wind. And as it approached, as the wind gently brushed past her, she couldn’t help but feel... “welcomed”.

* * *

“What?!” Steph laughed, grabbing a blaseball out of the air and tossing it back to her teammate. “Axel? No way.”

Summers’ uniform seemed to shrug as the ball was gently redirected back to Steph.

It wasn’t hard to catch. They weren’t even really practicing anymore, just killing time waiting for the others. “I thought he’d be way too cool to-- Oh, speak of the devil!”

As if on cue, a man in a denim jacket hopped the barrier from the dugout to the field. Almost as an afterthought, he spun around to open the door behind him and stuck his hands back in his pockets to shuffle towards Steph and Summers. A rubber tire shot out the opening he left and struggled to keep up at his side.

“Hey”, he said as he finally arrived, barely looking at Steph through his half-lidded eyes. “You the new Wing?”

“Yeah. Stephanie Winters” She stuck out her hand to shake his, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Cool. I’m Axel, this is Wheeler.” He gestured toward the tire full of rats. “You probably know us from, uh, blaseball.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

Miguel rolled back and forth slightly in response.

Steph continued. “Summers and I were just talking--”

Axel cut her off. “Preston. You weren’t gossiping about me, were you?” He stared dead into where Summers’ eyes would have been, as if interrogating her, before dropping back into a smirk. “Heh. Whatever.” He stuck out an arm, and Summers’ uniform mimed a fist bump. He turned back to Steph. “I was just about to help strap on this guy’s bat”, Axel continued, lightly kicking Miguel’s tire. “Cool to meet you, Winters.” Without another word, they were off.

“Huh.” Steph was almost speechless. “He really is like that, huh?”

She wasn’t sure how she knew, but Steph was pretty sure Summers was smiling.

* * *

Game day.

Steph thought she had been prepared. She couldn’t have been prepared. The lights were so bright, the fans were so loud. The Flowers were so ruthless.

“Focus.”

Top of the ninth. Flowers on first and third with two outs. Wild Wings were up 4-3, and had struggled for every one of those runs. That was with everyone at peak condition. Now? The Wings were tired. There wasn’t a lot of fight left in them. And the Flowers were thirsty.

“Don’t catastrophize. Ground yourself.”

Steph assumed her stance. She took the blaseball in her hands, wound up, and fired.

“Ball!”

The ump’s call came from everywhere and nowhere. Steph’s ears were ringing, but she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it.

Another pitch. “Ball!”

Enough was enough. She wasn’t about to let the Flowers load the bases. Now or never.

“Strike!”

Strike looking. They underestimated her.

“Strike!”

They’d have to swing better than that. One more pitch and Steph could put this game away.

She didn’t even remember the fifth pitch. It must have been autopilot. The first indication it had happened was the crack of the ball against the bat and the Flowers each sprinting from their position.

The ball bounced off Sosa’s chest, knocking him completely over. Tangled in his own trenchcoat, he wasn’t able to stand himself back up, let alone recover the ball. Cell swooped in, grabbing the blaseball and sending it to first. It bounced helplessly from Miguel’s tire, directly into Steph’s grasp, who threw it home as fast as she could.

“Safe! Safe! Out!”

It was too late. She had prevented the homer, but the Flowers were now up a run. Steph made her way back to the dugout, trying to put the jeers of the crowd out of her mind. She had barely sat down to mope when a soft breeze pushed her bangs from her face.

“Hey, Summers.”

Another gust of wind pushed her hat from her head and placed it gently beside her.

“I’ve been better.”

Summers’ uniform sat itself down beside her.

“I guess so, but it certainly feels like my fault.”

Another soft breeze brushed her arm, and Steph stood up with a start.

“Yeah, you know what? It’s not over! Why have I already given up? That’s not what a Winters does!”

Finally, Summers’ uniform floated out of its seat.

“Anything WILL happen. You give ‘em hell, Summers. We’re cheering for you.”

* * *

The chant from the fans was almost deafening. “Shame! Shame! Shame! Shame! Shame!” The Flowers could end the game, but they couldn’t take back the runs. Axel and Summers were out, but against all odds, Yong and Ronan made it home. The game was theirs.

The Wild Wings poured onto the field to lift the scorers onto their shoulders. Steph ran in to join them, but found herself stopped by Axel’s hand on her shoulder.

“Hey Winters. You have a minute?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I wanted to say that the crowd this game? Totally uncool. You did great out there. Well, fine. Whatever. Anyway.”

Steph smiled. That was the best compliment she had gotten out of him yet.

“Preston-- uh, Summers wanted to ask you something. Alone. She’s back in the dugout if you want to sneak away. Later.” Axel gave her a nod and stuck his hand back in his pocket, making his way off the field. Steph, meanwhile, ran back to the dugout.

“Hey, Summers?”

A burst of wind picked up her uniform off the ground, wrapping its arms around Steph.

“You were right! We did it!” Steph hugged back, and after a few seconds they let go together. “So, Axel said you wanted to talk to me?”

The uniform’s body language shifted suddenly, holding its arms behind it.

“I’d love to! And it’s certainly a cause worth celebrating. Do you know a place?”

An arm of Summers’ uniform wrapped itself around Steph’s wrist to lead her along, but suddenly released and stopped in its tracks.

She smiled and gently held the uniform’s arm herself, letting it tie itself around her again. “No, it’s fine. Lead the way.”


End file.
